Camp New Grace
by Must Have My Music
Summary: Stan and Kyle get a little crazy at their summer camp.
1. The Arriving

"You can make me go, but it sure as hell won't change a thing." I said icily from the back seat.

"Oh, Kyle, just wait and see. This is just a—a stage! Yes, you'll be through it very soon, especially thanks to this camp." This had all begun last week when my mother barged into my room, catching Stan and I red-handed—or shall I say red-assed—finally knowing what just about every other person in town already knew. Needless to say she was fucking _pissed._ She, of course, thought that my being in love with my best friend was a serious personal flaw. So, off she dragged me, three and a half full hours away from good, ol' South Park to Camp New Grace, to "pray the gay away." Sure, I'd tried to tell her that it was a Catholic thing, but she just shot me down. She'd said that the Stoches had highly recommended it—they'd sent Butters there six or seven years ago (little did they know that he was _not _"bi-curious" at the time as they thought he was. He is now, though). And here we were, pulling up to the summer camp-esque prison where they'd try to brainwash me using psalms, bible verses, pastoral speeches, and who knew what else.

Super.

Immediately upon arrival, we were swarmed with counselors and what looked like the most depressing welcoming committee I'd ever seen. An overly excited man flanked by two serious-looking teenaged boys opened the doors for both my mother and I, while the boys grabbed my luggage.

"Everyone say hello to our new camper, Kyle!" said the cheerful man, who I assumed was the head counselor, whom I'd come to loathe in during the summer I faced.

While the group of boys murmured their monotone "hellos," my mother began thanking "Jerry" as he profusely encouraged us to call him. She kissed my goodbye, wished me luck, and was gone.

Jerry went over rules and regulations as we walked into the building to my room. They were your average camp rules with a few exceptions. Instead of "Purpling," as most camps tend to call girl-on-guy action (red and blue make purple), there was to be absolutely no Dark Blue at any time on the premises. Anyone found doing anything along the lines of that would be sentenced to some monotonous task as punishment. All the while, Jerry assured me that I could change how I felt through the power of Jesus Christ, which would make me "normal" again.

Psh.

"Now, just to make sure you don't slip up while in camp, we assign every camper an Accountabilibuddy." He said, walking to me room, Room 69. "Your Accountabilibuddy is also a new camper, so be sure you guys keep each other away from any impure urges you might have. He can show you around the rest of the camp." And Jerry was gone with a smile.

This, of course, left me to face my new roommate alone. I picked up my bags, sighed and opened the door. The room was empty, except for two beds, two dressers, a bookshelf stacked with what looked to be bibles (and other religious books), and a desk with chairs. It did not, however, hold the person who was to be my Accountabilibuddy.

I flung my bags onto the bed closest me and stared out the window, wondering how I was to face this long, hellacious summer without Stan. God, I'd miss him. I already did. I must have been deeply distracted with my fantasies about him, since I didn't hear my roommate open the door and walk inside over to me. I sure felt it when he slipped his hands around my waistband, trying to reach my crotch, though. Boy, did I ever.

"Why, what do we have here? Hello there, Accountabilibuddy," a voice whispered in my ear (though you don't technically need to use your tongue like he did to consider it whispering), sending a shiver through my spine and making my knees jiggle a bit.

Stan.


	2. The Punshing

**(A/N: sorry about the lack of updates…sooo much stuff going on)**

There are about three things in this world that make me feel like I need to throw up. One: any adult talking/hinting at/thinking about/doing anything related to sex. Two: having to eat Ike's cooking (he now wants to be just like Chef). And three: getting walked in on while my boyfriend has his dick against my ass. The latter of which seems to be, quite annoyingly, happening more often than I'd like.

Yeah, that's right. Stan and I were about to get it on, when Jerry popped his bald, fat head into our room, with someone in tow, to let me know that my mother wished to give me one last hug and kiss goodbye. Oh, how surprised they were.

Anyway, Stan and I sprang apart immediately and looked sheepishly at the floor. I hadn't been at that stupid camp for more than thirty minutes and I had already gotten into trouble. Jerry whipped his walkie- talkie out of his fanny pack and shouted that he needed two disciplinary rooms set up, STAT, Dave and Martin to skedaddle on up here, and if Marsha could make two chocolate-caramel-iced-mocha-frappuccinos with extra sugar sprinkled on top, well that would be just super. Oh, and to go easy on the whipped cream; that shit all went to his hips.

I slid slowly towards my clothes and carefully pulled my pants back up, sneaking peeks at Stan. He was doing exactly the same as I was.

"Hold it, boys!" Jerry boomed, startling me, "You won't need those where you're going," he said with a wicked grin.

Oh, my fucking god. If you've never gotten what can be taken as a sexual comment from a fifty-something, balding, sugary-caffeinated-beverage-drinking man, I seriously envy you. That can really screw with a guy's head—especially if he doesn't explain the aforementioned comment.

For the next hour and twenty-seven minutes, Stan and I were placed under strict surveillance outside of Jerry's office, wearing nothing but our skivvies. He was off sending my mother on her way and making sure the "disciplinary rooms" were set up properly. To say the least, it was agonizing. Especially when the other campers walked past us, shaking their heads, throwing us pitying looks. When we asked Dave and Martin, our supervisors, what was going on, all we got was a smirk and chuckle.

Finally, Dave's walkie-talkie crackled to life, informing him that the rooms were ready. I was guided into a white room containing only a desk and chair, a computer, and tissues. Dave gave me one last smirk and slammed the door shut.

"Please remove your pants," a came a whispery, sexy woman's voice from a loudspeaker on the wall, "and take a seat in the chair." It startled me at first, as I looked around the room. The woman repeated the message. I figured, what the hell, did as I was told, and waited. The voice came back. "You are about to be punished for being a naughty boy. Sit back and take it."

The screen flickered on, showing a topless woman with massive hooters bouncing up and down, moaning in ecstasy. It took me a second to realize it was _porn_.

This was going to be interesting.


	3. The NoiseMaking

**SORRY EVERYONE!!!!** **I've been trying to work on this, but it never really seemed right. I'm still not 100% happy with it, but it's waaaaay over due, so here you are everyone!  
shhhh, don't tell, but there's EXTRA SMUT for you in this one. :3**

**THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU  
All of you wonderful reviews people! I lub you very much.  
Cookies and sparkles for you guys!**

You see, I've never really considered myself gay. I mean, sure I have sex—amazing, hardcore, kinky sex—with Stan, but I still can appreciate a nice set of boobs and all that. Stan's the only guy I look at in a loving kind of way. What I mean by that is I can still hang out with the guys and, when a hot chick prances up the street in a microscopic skirt, I'll be whistling and shouting out with the rest of them. I still like girls. So let me tell you, sitting there in a room and watching straight porn for easily three hours was no punishment for me. You might even say I had a good time.

After my "punishment" was done, Jerry waddled into the room, followed by a grinning Stan. He took us into his office, sat us down, and gave us a long lecture on our wrong-doings, how we could change, and how God above would cure us. Basically, he said we were fags and said we'd burn in hell if we didn't do exactly what he said. Then, with a disapproving glare, he sent us back to our room.

------

"God, these people are dumbasses," Stan breathed into my neck, unbuttoning my pants, causing me to reply in a moan.

The second we got back to our room, we locked the door, put a chair under the doorknob, shut the blinds, and started up the No Pants Dance. And here we were, my hands up his shirt, his tongue in my mouth.

"Ky?" he moaned, nibbling on my earlobe, making my breath hitch.

"Hmmm?"

"I want you. Now." And with that he thrust his hands down my pants, wrapping them around my dick.

"Aaaauhhhhhmmm…S-Stan keep going…" I breathed into his neck as we crumpled to the floor, not even bothering to walk to the bed. I tugged off his shirt as he slid my pants off. Slowly, he nudged my boxers off my legs as well, tickling his fingers against my thighs as he went. The bastard was teasing me. I couldn't take this anymore. A feeling was starting to arise in me that I hadn't quite felt before. It made me want—need to take control and fuck him senseless.

I shoved him off of me, ripped his pants off, and fumbled for the lube on top of the desk next to us. Nibbling on his earlobe, I pressed one lubed finger into Stan, relishing the choked moans emanating from his throat. With my other hand, I reached around to his cock, stroking it slowly, making him moan more beneath me.

"Fuck…Kyle…" he mumbled. I pressed another finger into him, scissoring them inside.

"What was that? I couldn't quite hear you," I nibbled at his chest, sucking on his sensitive, pink nipples.

"FUCK ME, KYLE. FUCK ME RIGHT NOW, GODDAMMIT."

I gently pushed my hardened cock to him, spreading his legs to get a better angle. We both groaned as I eased my way inside him, marveling at how tight he felt around me. He wrapped his arms around my neck and sucked my earlobe moaning sexily. Well that did it. With that, I couldn't fight the animalistic urge screaming inside me any longer. I grabbed onto his hips and pushed in abruptly, smirking at the strangled yelps from Stan. I felt him latch onto me, squeezing his legs around me, winding his hands down to my ass.

Soon, our bodies aligned with each other, hips working together to make one orgasmic rhythm, moans syncing up into one passionate voice. Even after we'd cummed more than once, we didn't stop. It had been far too long since we'd spent time in each other's arms this way and we wanted it to last as long as it possibly could.

_BAMBAMBAMBAMBAM_

Someone rapped angrily at our door, snapping our focus to it. We didn't stop though.

"_Would you puh-LEASE keep it down you two?! It's hard enough to sleep without a FUCKING PORNO NEXT DOOR!!!!_"

Stan and I looked at each other and started giggling uncontrollably. We reluctantly pulled apart looking at the sticky mess we'd made on the floor.

"Jesus, Stan…excited much?" I smirked, flicking on the lights and fan for our room's bathroom.

"Says the one who pounced on me. Dude, what was that about, anyway?" Stan turned on the shower, pulling the lever all the way to the red H, and then stepped in.

"Whatever," I tested the water before stepping under the spray with him. "Besides," I gestured towards his lower-half, "it looks like someone's still excited." Stan still had an erection.

"Mmm, look who's talking." He pressed one finger to the tip of my own boner and wiggled it around. "I see you still want to go." He kissed me, pressing our wet lips together as the water ran down our bodies. He slipped his tongue carefully into my mouth, where it was eagerly accepted. We sank down to the slippery tile floor, a mass of wet passion.

I moaned. "So what if I do?" I could feel the heat rising to my face as I stared into his cool blue eyes. I couldn't help but melt a little inside from how sexy he looked on top of me, his wet hair sticking to his face and his cheeks still a little red from earlier.

"Sit back and relax, then," he whispered. Before I could protest about our neighbors, he was sucking me off. And I'll be darned if he doesn't give the best blow job I've ever had. He licked the tip of my cock, teasing me just a little before taking it in his mouth. The hot water pounded down on us as he swirled his tongue around me, bobbing his head up and down. Before long, the desperate feeling returned and I was moaning and pleading for him to go faster and harder. Stan grabbed my shaft with one hand and pumped it in time with his head. I cried out as I shot my cum into his mouth. He swallowed it down, sucking a bit longer before breaking off, gasping. He crawled next to me and planted a soft kiss on my forehead.

"Stan?" I whimpered.

"Yeah?" he replied, wiping water away from his eyes.

"We're going to make it through this, right? I mean, we won't let this place fuck with us, right?" I leaned into him when I felt him put his arm around my shoulders.

"Yeah."


	4. The Acquaintance

**(A/N: Wait, what? Could it be-is it really? YES. IT'S CHAPTER 4. But we thought you discontinued this and didn't care about us and left us to die! Why, OF COURSE NOT. I just...really have no excuse for the huge gap. BUT. I intend to finish this. EVEN IF IT KILLS ME. Enjooooy )**

I woke up the next morning alone in my bed. Which was strange, seeing as I distinctly remembered there being another body snuggled against me when I fell asleep. Regardless, I sat up, wiping the sleep out of my eyes and ran my hands through the rat's nest otherwise known as my hair. I looked around the room, searching for any clues as to where Stan might be. Nothing.

I stumbled over to the bathroom and stepped into a cold shower, taking in the details of it, noticing things I hadn't the night before since I was…preoccupied. I let my mind drift into fantasies as I finished soaping off. I hopped out and dried off. I wrapped a towel around my waist and picked up my toothbrush. In the midst of brushing, I heard the door click open. My heart jumped and I rushed to spit and rinse. It was Stan—it had to be. I decided to get him back for leaving this morning with no notice. I dropped my towel.

"Stan?" I asked excitedly, opening the door back into the room, making sure to display everything.

"Noooope. Who's Stan?" replied a flirtatious, feminine voice, "And why does he get the sexy naked roommate?"

I could only stand there and stupidly attempt to shield my dick with my hands from the girl lying on my bed. She was small and blonde. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail and tied with a ribbon. She had a tight tank top, small jean shorts, and bright orange flip flops on. No bra though, I noticed. Her skin was tanned and her cheeks dusted with freckles. Her brown eyes smiled at me along with her full lips.

"Uhhhh…" was all I could manage.

She rolled off the bed and sauntered over to me, letting her eyes rake up and down my body. "Seriously, nice…everything." She commented, coming to a stop right in front of me. She smelled of some fruity perfume.

I was paralyzed and confused. She brought a finger to my lips and dragged it slowly down my chest, brazenly dipping it below my belly button. She stood on her tip-toes and leaned in to the point I felt her breasts dust against my chest.

"Mmm…happy trails," she whispered in my ear, "Happy trails turn me on sooo much."

I was still standing there, hands covering genitals, trying to make some sense of this situation. I had nothing except utter confusion. I could only come to one conclusion: this camp was so fucked up. I didn't know if I was actually awake or still sleeping. That is, until the tiny, sexually-crazed girl dragged her nails up my thigh, moaning like she was in the midst of crazy sex.

"Meeeeoooow! Kitty likes!" I had a feeling this would end badly. The girl was nuts.

I yelped as she shoved me over to the bed. I took this opportunity to grab a pair of stray boxers and jam them on. She let out a scream and jumped on top of me, knocking me on my back.

"Nooo," she whined "Don't cover that up!" She dug her nails in my chest and thrust her hips against mine. Was I seriously about to get raped by a girl half my size?

"Um, look—" I tried, but she would have none of it.

"Uh, bup, bup! None of that!" she exclaimed. "Where's that hard cock-a-doodle-doo I saw earlier?" She pinned back my arms with one hand and reached for the hem of my boxers with the other. I struggled under her surprisingly vice-like grip.

Correction: I was about to be raped by a body-builder trapped inside of a girl half my size.

Just as her hand grazed the tip of my still flaccid penis, a siren went off. Literally. A voice came over the loudspeakers in every room alerting the camp that this was not a test. I could hear counselors and campers yelling outside.

"Shit!" She exclaimed jumping off me and heading for the lone window in the room. She flung it open and crawled through. She looked back at me, winked, and said "We're not through…I'll be back for more." She moaned and shivered and was gone.

I was left in shock alone on my disheveled bed. What. The. Fuck.


	5. The Morning After

The sirens faded away and all that was left was silence. It was precisely at this moment that Stan burst into the room. Of course.

"Kyle!" he screamed, making me jump about a foot in the air. "You will never guess what happened!"

"Uhhh…" was my witty remark. Stan plopped on the bed next to me and launched into a story.

"Well! I was out at breakfast and…" It wasn't long before I had tuned him out. I couldn't focus on what he was saying. Or anything really. I was busy having an argument in my head based upon whether or not I should inform Stan about the happenings of the past ten or so minutes. While it's true that nothing _really_ happened—I mean I did nothing wrong, right?—I was wondering if this was one of those things that he would laugh about. Maybe he would. But what if he didn't? What if he got pissed? That would be bad. I was already stuck in hell. I didn't want to be fighting with Stan at the same time. I decided to keep quiet.

"…right across the lake from us! Isn't that crazy?" he finished.

"What? Oh. Yeah…crazy." I said lamely. I snuck a glance at him. His face was flushed and his black hair was sticking out in all directions. He brushed some of it out of his eyes. He licked his lips as his eyes met mine.

"You ready for day one of hell?" Stan leaned in close to me. He drew a hand up and ruffled my hair.

I scowled and looked away but paused. I had no idea what to expect. I had no clue what was to come. I wondered if Stan did. He was now stroking my head, burying his fingers in my curls. I looked back up. He was looking at me intently. I crossed my eyes and he laughed. He leaned in closer, brushing his nose against mine and settled his forehead upon mine. I closed my eyes as he dragged his hand down and ran a thumb over my cheek.

"You're freckles are coming back." He whispered, his lips following the line traced by his thumb.

"Mmm, observant." His lips were on mine. I wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him on top of me. He swept his other hand up my leg and bare chest, leaving it on my shoulder. I nibbled his bottom lip, enjoying the moans it brought forth. I traced my tongue where my teeth had just been moaning as I felt his tongue enter my mouth.

Our kisses got increasingly intense and I pulled his head closer to mine. Our tongues danced around the other's, plunging deep into each other's cavernous mouths. We broke apart, gasping for breath. I licked my lips, disengaging the line of saliva linking out mouths together.

"Kyle…" Stan breathed.

I got the hint and bucked my hips up against his, grinding against him. He choked out a groan and I did it again, feeling him through the thin fabrics the both of us were wearing. I couldn't wait anymore. I needed him in me. It had been…I calculated it in my head. A week. Far too long. I reached for his waistband. Oh yes. I was getting some.

Until Stan raked dragged his fingers. In the exact spot that psycho girl had with her talons.

"YYYYEAAAAOWWWWCHHHH." I screamed. Stan jumped and pulled away.

"The fuck?" he cried.

"I—" I tried to think up an excuse but was silenced when Stan flipped me over. I could feel his eyes on my back. He grabbed my face and I saw worry all over his face.

"What the hell happened to you?"

I froze. I had no idea what to say. I sat up. I tried to think of something but was drawing nothing but blanks.

"Look, I—"

Again, I was interrupted. I was beginning to wonder if this was part of the camp curriculum.

It was Jerry's voice coming across the loudspeakers. All campers were to report to the flagpole at the center of the cabins for morning lecture and prayer. Also, grief counselors were available at all times for any campers whose Accountabilibuddies had, ah, left early.

It was inevitable. My first day on the road to being straight was about to begin. I looked at Stan and his face softened. He leaned in a placed a light kiss on my forehead.

"I'm here. We're together. I won't leave you." He cupped my face in his hands. I looked away, but he pulled my face up and stared directly into my eyes. "Kyle, everything will be okay. You and I will go this together. We are going to be fine because I love you."

He pulled me in, cradling my head against his chest. And for one split second? I believed him.

"I love you too."


End file.
